D. Quix. p 20.
(1.)
Sleep, sleep, poor Youth, sleep, sleep in Peace,
Reliev'd from Love, and mortal care,
Whilst we that pine in Life's disease,
Uncertain blest, less happy are.
(2.)
Couch'd in the dark and silent Grave,
No ills of Fate thou now canst fear;
No more shall Tyrant Power inslave,
Or scornful Beauty be severe.
(3.)
Wars, that do fatal storms disperse,
Far from thy happy Mansion keep;
Earthquakes, that shake the Universe,
Can't rock thee into sounder sleep.